


Tricked

by hannahrhen



Series: Disillusioned [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anger, Female Loki, Genderswap, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Prostitution, Pseudo-Incest, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Sibling Incest, whore!Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor thought back to a shower of coins falling on linen, to his brother’s stunned, angry expression, and simply knew. </p><p>Loki’s punishment. His revenge. To throw Thor’s own words back at him, to make cheap what Thor had paid for dearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricked

**Author's Note:**

> So. This unintentionally turned into a fix-it fic. You know if that sort of thing floats your boat. If you prefer the semi-dire state of the end of "Disillusioned," you may want to take a pass!

Loki had withdrawn, after, as Thor knew he would. It was Thor’s punishment for the offense, for losing his temper and--

 _Insulting_ his brother. Not the fucking--no, that Loki had responded to with an ecstatic savagery. Rather, it was what came after: Thor could still hear the flat sound of coins hitting the linens, clinking as they bounced against each other. The true offense--a rebuke that seemed necessary at the time, less wise in retrospect.

Never mind _Loki’s_ offense, as always, Thor huffed to himself. Never mind his _trick_ to draw his lust-addled brother into his bed, to make a fool of him. Again.

But if there were one thing Thor knew after their centuries together, it was that no offense of Loki’s would ever be judged as harshly-- _by Loki, mind you_ \--as any crime of Thor’s. So Loki made himself absent from feasts and court. And Thor knew he plotted.

So. Thor waited for the consequences.

Silent weeks passed before word came one night through the men who accompanied him on a hunt. Thor, returning after a brief scouting, stopped when he heard the men laughing--knew his return, in his obvious sour mood, would sober them more than they deserved. 

Unsurprisingly, released from their lord’s poor spirits, their talk was ribald, praising a new talent at a favorite tavern. A wench who would choose among them, lead them up stairs, and ... What happened next was frequently lost in a haze of fogged pleasure. Until, to a man, each would emerge spent, weakened and temporarily without words. Addled by an expert working of his cock, an ever-tight clench of a cunt.

Lighter in purse, but none minded.

Then, as Thor listened, one noted that this ... woman tended to pick the fair-haired, broad-shouldered companions from among her options for the evening.

“Such a thing,” he heard Volstagg say, voice wondering. “A whore with standards.” 

Chuckles from around the fire, until another responded, “Or an ache between her legs for the golden prince, more like.” Thor wasn’t sure who had offered that cheek, but the knowing laughs and noises of assent among the men confirmed the observation.

No one said how long the woman had been in residence, but Thor thought back to a shower of coins falling on linen, to his brother’s stunned, angry expression, and simply knew. 

Loki’s punishment. His revenge. To throw Thor’s own words back at him, to make cheap what Thor had paid for dearly. 

His hands clenched at his sides. His brother knew him well, Thor thought, as he struggled against the sudden heat in his blood, the fire in his vision.

***

A rough jostle pushed a gasp from Loki’s mouth, brought the evening’s building discomfort to the forefront of his attentions. He pulled up his thighs to stretch the kinks out, leaving enough room between for the current intruder. The one who likely interpreted Loki’s gasp as an indication of pleasure, whose hand tightened further in Loki’s now-longer hair, the other grasping his now-broadened hip.

Typical. No matter what arts he used, what novelties he employed, it always came to this: thoughtless muscle within his arms, between his legs, a single-minded head and brainless cock rutting into his aching cunt. This one was worse than many others, leaving Loki’s arousal close to withering, though he fit another need--big and blond and ... stupid enough to set tongues wagging even more below. Eyes duller than the beast he only cursorily resembled. Tongue crueler. 

Well, not much crueler, which is how he had arrived here, after all. His brother’s angry words, Loki’s need for retribution. To shame Thor by practicing his _tricks_ on their rough countrymen.

The room was minimally decorated, bed soft and sheets smooth if growing ever-rank each night with the visits of one warrior-artisan-farmer after another. Loki had retreated here weeks before, quickly laying a trap. A very careful--and frankly exhausting--trap. In his female form, breasts full and high, bones fine, hips ample, eyes exactly the same shade of gemstone green under longer lashes, Loki was irresistible to the inn’s patrons. 

Earning admiration, even if he had to spread his legs to get it. Would that he had been born female; no doubt some things would have been easier.

But remembering how he’d been fucked, almost brutalized by his elder brother--every moment of which he adored, nurtured the memory of ... No. Most things would have been much more difficult. 

And now the brother himself resisted, infuriating Loki even more. His plan counted on the men in Thor’s company to have loose tongues--but either they weren’t talking, or his stupid brother wasn’t listening. As the nameless cock-wielder above him shifted his angle--in search of his own pleasure, naturally--Loki wondered not for the first time if this plan were flawed. 

That’s when he heard it.

The crackle of static in the air, a sudden smell of ozone, muffled shouts and clatter of chairs and glass shattering below ... Loki smiled. Tugging insistently at the man’s greasy yellow hair, he whispered in an ear, “Ah, it seems as though you are the unlucky one. My apologies, truly.” He patted a shoulder. “It’s best if you don’t fight. You may escape this with no more than a few broken ribs.”

The man drew his head back, and sex-fogged eyes sharpened into confusion just before the door behind him splintered inward with a great bang. 

Loki arched his back with an exaggerated moan, gripped his ... _lover_ more tightly, and hoped his brother appreciated the show.

***

Okay, a broken nose to go with the ribs--still, a kind fate, all in all, considering what his brother was capable of.

After the man staggered out, Loki could only hide a grin as he pressed his thighs together and lifted the sheet to cover his _modesty._ Thor stood at the foot of the bed, nostrils flaring with heavy exhales. The beast, winded, Loki thought with small pleasure. No doubt scenting the night’s earlier visits. If he had wondered before, wondered whether Thor had learned of Loki’s vocation, if he--somehow--hadn’t cared, Loki now had confirmation of Thor’s ready ignorance: He still wore the foul, blood-smudged clothes from the abandoned hunt. 

After another breath, Thor spoke: “Is this my punishment?” He gestured at the bed, at Loki’s barely shrouded--female--form. “Is _this_ your revenge?”

Loki twisted a hand behind his own neck, pulled the thick hair forward over his shoulder. It trickled down to obscure his breast, to tease. He offered a crooked, wicked smirk. 

“I don’t know--does it pain you?”

A dark stare from his brother, and a long silence--one that gave its own answer. But, finally, Thor responded, his own mouth turned up unkindly. “I am ... uncertain.” The voice was its own tease, and Loki felt his brother’s rage fading, turning to something else. “The thought of you on your back for weeks, being mounted endlessly in this strange form, bringing this _shame_ to our family--” He shook his head, eyes shut as if to block the images. “It is vile ... and yet--”

Loki snorted. Leave it to Thor to try to play his game _now_. Shame to the family, indeed, from the brother, the son who-- 

But Loki pressed: “‘And _yet_?’”

Thor pretended to consider his answer; when he spoke, the low insinuation in his words surged warm and liquid through Loki’s veins. “The thought of you learning how to pleasure a man with your body, in whatever form ... Hundreds of times ... “ A raised eyebrow. “Perhaps thousands?” 

Loki’s eyes narrowed, yet Thor’s gleamed. “Hundreds, then--it is intriguing to me. One can only imagine the tricks you’ve learned. And earning your keep with it, as well. It’s impressive. Brother. ” Thor’s eyes raked over the bed, Loki’s covered figure. “ _Sister_.”

“Fool.” Loki snorted, then jutted out his chin. “You know, these _men_ think I am worth the price.”

“Oh, but I _know_ you are, Loki. Quite dear, indeed.” Thor stepped closer to the bed, hand going to his breeches, opening them with quick movements. “None know better than I.”

 _Here?_ Loki marveled inwardly. He pulled himself up, letting the sheet fall and pool around his hips. Watching then as Thor crawled onto the bed, laces trailing around his exposed, thickening cock. Feeling this still-strange body’s sudden response. Anticipation of a touch that gave pleasure even as pleasure was taken. 

Realizing Thor hadn't offered an apology and, for now, Loki didn't care.

“Change back,” Thor ordered, jerking the sheet from Loki's legs. “Now.” Then, softer: “Before I hurt you.”

And while others might have heard a caution or a threat, Loki, with his twisted memories of a single, bruising, burning night, heard what it truly was:

A promise. 

Promise of the most precious torment.

Here, then, Loki thought. Voice amused, he wondered, “But what of the men downstairs?”

Thor reached for Loki’s knees, pulling them apart slowly with his thick fingers. “Let them think what they will, what they already think. That you have been waiting for me.” Fingers pressing deep into muscle, Thor stroked the insides of Loki’s thighs with his thumbs. “You _have_ been waiting for me, yes? To show me your tricks?” he finished with a rumble.

“Oh, yes. So much to show you.” With an all-over shiver, Loki shifted back to his familiar form, and with his own legs, his own arms, and his still sharp, sharp nails, he reached out to Thor. 

And Thor came.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! You can find me publicly hand-wringing over my writing, or fangirling over other people's, on Tumblr: <http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com/>


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